


Napoleon and Josephine

by ElicBxn



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 17:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19750576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElicBxn/pseuds/ElicBxn
Summary: Napoleon has a shock.





	Napoleon and Josephine

The two top agents of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement sat in Illya's office finalizing their joint report on their latest affair.  
Napoleon glanced at his watch, again. Illya paused in mid-word and eyed him.  
"You've never been a clock watcher, my friend," he commented after a moment.  
"It's nothing," Solo said with a grin.  
"Date with Sherry?"  
"Who else?" Napoleon asked, sheepishly.  
"You've been dating her for six months," Illya went on.  
Solo shrugged.  
Illya got up and started pacing. "I hate to tell you this, but I've run a search on her."  
Napoleon's face grew dark. Before he could say anything, Illya picked up a folder from his file cabinet and gave it to his partner.  
Solo, still frowning, flipped it open.  
The photo was of Sharon Cooke, but the dossier said Teresa Moore, a Thrush operative.  
"I ran it through on fingerprints, Napoleon," Illya said softly. "Agents picked her up this morning. Her assignment was to get information. If you began to suspect anything, to kill you."  
Napoleon allowed the folder to close.  
"I'm sorry, Napoleon," Illya whispered.  
Solo stood up and touched his lips with the crock of his right index finger. "Thank you, Illya," he said. A catch in his throat broke the sentance. "Excuse me," he said as he left.  
* * * * *  
The rain came down in grey sheets, subduing the young spring colors to drab.  
Without thinking, Napoleon walked to Central Park. Hardly noticing the rain and what it was doing to his suit and shoes. He couldn't believe he had fallen in love with a girl and not known she was Thrush. He was glad, now, that he hadn't bought the ring he had been looking at.  
Picking a path at random, he walked on. In spite of his mind being on other things, his instincts caught sight of a movement of white admidst the trees.  
Napoleon stopped and considered it for a moment, then he stepped off the path to investigate.  
A girl, in her early twenties, wearing a sodden, gauzy white dress. She was dancing among the trees to a tune Napoleon could not hear. Her soaked, auburn hair was pinned up and hung in damp ringlets down her neck. In her hair was plaited roses and honeysuckle.  
She stopped and turned to Napoleon. "Hello," she greeted.  
Napoleon cleared his throat self-consciously. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."  
"No. I'm happy, so I'm dancing," she replied.  
Her simple answer made Solo smile. "And what makes you so happy today?" he asked, in spite of himself.  
"The flowers. The rain. It's Spring..." She spread her arms expansively. Then she stopped again and cocked her head to look at him. "Come dance with me?"  
She was so like a vision, standing there in the rain, that Napoleon took her in his arms and they began to waltz in the rain.  
"My name is Napoleon," he introduced himself.  
"Josie," she replied. "Short for Josephine." They shared a laugh.  
As they waltzed on Napoleon could almost hear the sweet refrain of music in the rain on the leaves. Then Josie picked up on it, humming along lightly.  
*****  
Napoleon didn't notice the rain easing until a watery beam of sunlight brought through the clouds from the west. He stopped and turned to look at it. It was like a new day to him.  
With a smile, he turned back to Josie to share the moment, but she was gone.  
"Josie?" he called. He ran through the trees, but she was no where to be found.  
Slowly Napoleon returned to the clearing. In the grass was a sprig of honeysuckle. He picked it up sadly and stared at it. He couldn't believe that he could fall in love so quickly. On the other hand, what he had felt for Sherry must not have been real love if Josie had so thoroughly wiped her from his mind.

*****  
The sun was nearly set when Illya found him there, flowers in hand.  
"Napoleon?" he called from the path.  
Solo looked up. He smiled and walked over, still dripping.  
"How did you find me, you old Russian wolfhound?"  
Illya blinked in surprise, but didn't register his feelings in any other way. "You always head for Central Park, my friend. As though you are looking for trouble."  
Napoleon grinned. "It's nice to know I have such a good friend."  
Illya didn't even blink this time. He was just happy that Napoleon wasn't upset any longer.  
"What is this?" he asked, looking at the honeysuckle in Solo's hand.  
"Flowers," Napoleon said lightly, but his smile vanished.  
When he didn't elaborate, Illya changed his tactics. "Let's get you back to you apartment. You'll get sick standing out here, soaked to the skin."  
Napoleon smiled indulgently. "You sound just like an old woman," he told the Russian.  
Illya didn't say anything. He didn't want to tell his friend that honeysuckle never bloomed much before April, even in the South. He had no idea where Napoleon had gotten some in New York City in early March.


End file.
